


Stop & Freeze

by heondreds



Category: TOMORROW X TOGETHER | TXT (Korea Band)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Choi Yeonjun, Crying, Dom Choi Beomgyu, Hyung Kink, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mirror Sex, Nipple Play, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Sub Choi Yeonjun, Subspace, Switch Choi Beomgyu, Top Choi Beomgyu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:28:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25406152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heondreds/pseuds/heondreds
Summary: Beomgyu never knew he wanted to dom before - but of course, there’s a first time for everything.
Relationships: Choi Beomgyu/Choi Yeonjun
Comments: 31
Kudos: 307





	Stop & Freeze

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Остановись и замри](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25711846) by [Helena_de_Noir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helena_de_Noir/pseuds/Helena_de_Noir)



> the smut has returned and idk it’s basically the same as my last smut because i have one (1) idea
> 
> a tiny hint of dubcon? everyone’s happy but they don’t discuss anything beforehand, at least

“Okay, that’s ten minutes. Are you going to be good now?”

Beomgyu scowls. His arms ache from holding them above his head, on his knees in the practice room corner where Yeonjun put him in a time out.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” he complains. The others left a while ago, when practice officially ended for the day, but Yeonjun decided to stay behind and practice some more. Beomgyu had stayed with him, thinking this would be a perfect excuse, they could have some alone time together. Except...

Yeonjun tuts, lips pushing out in a pout. “You tried to distract me. You wouldn’t let me get any work done, and you didn’t take no for an answer. That’s why you’re being punished.”

Beomgyu’s scowl deepens. That’s true, superficially - that _is_ what he did, but Yeonjun’s making it sound bad. He wasn’t trying to be annoying, he just wanted some attention. What’s so wrong about that?

But he keeps that to himself. Whining will just extend his punishment.

“You’re good enough already,” he says instead. Flattery will get him everywhere. “You’re already amazing, you don’t need to practice more.”

Or not.

“Cute,” Yeonjun says, but there’s a condescending sneer twisting his features. “No good though. You’re gonna stay there until you’re ready to apologize.”

Something sours in Beomgyu’s gut at the older’s words. He can take punishments, he can kneel on the floor with his arms raised for however long Yeonjun wants - sometimes he even enjoys it. He _can_ be good, he _can_ obey, but something about it just doesn’t agree with him right now. He doesn’t want to do this today.

Yeonjun turns away to grab a water bottle, and Beomgyu is on his feet in an instant. The older yelps as Beomgyu grabs him by the arm, spins him back around.

“What are you doing?” Yeonjun asks, but it doesn’t sound like a question. “Get back in the corner.”

“Why do I always have to do what you say?” Beomgyu doesn’t quite know where this is coming from, why he’s suddenly chosen to act out, but it feels right to tighten his grip around Yeonjun’s arm, sneer up at the older. Yeonjun sneers back. Is he angry too?

“Because I’m your hyung,” he says, jaw set, like that explains everything.

They’re inches apart, air around them tense like it is when they actually fight. But they’re not actually fighting, are they? They’re just messing around, this isn’t serious. They can press pause, talk about this properly, about the way Beomgyu’s skin is prickling at the idea of being controlled again. They’ve always been good at talking, and Beomgyu knows Yeonjun would listen if he said anything.

Except Beomgyu doesn’t quite feel like he’s messing around. This feels important, immediate, not something he can wait to resolve. And he doesn’t really feel like talking.

And he _really_ didn’t like Yeonjun’s answer.

Something must change in his expression, maybe something gets darker, harder, because then Yeonjun’s glare falters, eyebrows twitching in confusion, concern maybe as he looks at Beomgyu. It’s a crack in the facade, just a hint of uncertainty, weakness. It spurs Beomgyu on.

“Because you’re my hyung? You think that means anything? You should be nicer to your dongsaeng,” Beomgyu spits. Yeonjun looks a little lost.

“Beomgyu...”

“I don’t want to play, hyung.”

And he steps in closer, strokes his hand up to Yeonjun’s shoulder. He places his other hand on the back of the older’s neck and squeezes, not too gently. It’s not what Yeonjun had been expecting, and Beomgyu can see it catches the older off-guard. He watches as Yeonjun’s eyelids flicker at his action, lips parting. _That’s new_.

“Get back down,” Yeonjun says anyway, and his voice is usually stern, commanding when he’s giving Beomgyu orders, but here it sounds a little uncertain, shakes slightly in the middle. Beomgyu grins.

“Get down?” he says, sliding his hands down to Yeonjun’s hips, holding firm, digging his fingers in as he drops to his knees. “Like this?”

He’s wearing sweatpants, it’s too easy to yank them down and expose his pretty cock. Yeonjun gasps, a choked-up little noise, and his hands move to Beomgyu’s hair like a reflex, an instinct. Beomgyu hums.

“You always get your way, don’t you?” he says, pressing a kiss to the dick in front of him. It makes Yeonjun twitch, so he does it again, and again, then he darts his tongue out to lick, casual, coy, like he’s deciding whether he actually wants to or not. “We always have to do what you say. What gives you the right, huh? Just because you’re the oldest?”

He’s not sure when he started thinking this, if he even really thinks it at all. He didn’t know these words were buried somewhere, but they’re all rushing to the surface and Beomgyu is too far gone to stop them. He keeps kissing, licking as he speaks, alternating between his sentences, his words. Yeonjun doesn’t say anything, just holds on as Beomgyu cruelly works his mouth.

“You think being the oldest gives you automatic power, automatic respect, don’t you? But you have to _earn_ respect, Yeonjun, and I don’t think you have. You were going to leave me in that corner, weren’t you? Like a toy you play with only when it suits you?”

He takes the head of Yeonjun’s dick into his mouth, closing his lips around it for less than a second before letting it slip out again, barely stimulating at all. But Yeonjun is hardening rapidly in front of him, despite (or maybe because of) his words, and it’s a wicked rush. He couldn’t stop if he wanted to.

“Or maybe it’s because you think you’re the best, right? Just because you ranked first all those times, that means you get to boss us around, boss _me_ around. Is that it?”

Yeonjun’s breath is coming in harsh pants, hands fisted in Beomgyu’s hair, but he hasn’t pushed the younger away yet, hasn’t told him to stop, to shut up. There’s a strange look on his face when Beomgyu glances up, one Beomgyu doesn’t quite recognize, but it lights a fire low in his stomach anyway, puts all sorts of thoughts into his head.

Beomgyu smirks, wipes at the spit dribbling down his chin. “I should punish _you_ , show you how it feels.”

Then he takes Yeonjun’s cock into his mouth, as much as he can fit, and _sucks_. Yeonjun has been pretty quiet so far, but here he whines, high and loud, and tugs at Beomgyu’s hair as the younger sinks down his length, gasps as he is teased to full hardness. And normally Beomgyu would be happy to suck the older off properly, but today he has other ideas.

He pulls off with a wet _pop_ , gets to his feet and fits his hand around Yeonjun’s slick cock instead, pumping slowly as he crowds Yeonjun back against the mirror. The older is oddly pliant, almost dazed. Beomgyu recognizes the look now, the soft, fuzzy glaze to his eyes - he knows the older has seen it on his own face many times before.

He leans forward, puts his mouth against Yeonjun’s ear, savors the way Yeonjun tenses, presses back hard against the mirror, tries to shrink away from him. It’s pure power.

“Maybe you should do what I say, for once,” he growls, dropping his voice deep and rough. Yeonjun has enough sense left in him to shake his head, still defiant, but when Beomgyu pulls back he can see that Yeonjun is slipping, control fading, maybe for the first time. It won’t take much to get him completely under.

Beomgyu lays his hand on Yeonjun’s neck again, taps his thumb against Yeonjun’s throat, feels him swallow.

“It’s okay, _Yeonjun-ah_ ,” he says, and watches the way Yeonjun’s gaze shifts, turning dreamy, spacey, pupils dilating. His mouth falls open, and Beomgyu presses a kiss to the corner of his plush lips. “It’s okay. Hyung’s gonna take care of you.”

It’s easy to coax Yeonjun down to the floor - his legs are weak anyway. He seems really far gone, deep into a headspace Beomgyu wasn’t sure the older could reach. He kisses back when Beomgyu licks into his mouth, but he’s otherwise unresponsive, passive, hands twitching by his sides, like he needs permission to touch.

“You still with me, baby?” Beomgyu asks, a hand coming up to cup his face, focus his drifting attention. It’s the hand he had around Yeonjun’s dick, and it smears a little spit, a little slick onto Yeonjun’s cheek, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He nods, drowsy like his head is too heavy to hold up properly.

“I need to hear it,” Beomgyu says, something he’s heard from Yeonjun too many times before. “You need to use your words, kitten.”

Yeonjun swallows, blinks. “Yes,” he says, “yes, yes.”

Beomgyu sees the way his mouth moves between the words, struggling to form something else, like he wants to say Beomgyu’s name but it doesn’t work, it doesn’t feel right. Beomgyu knows what he’s going through.

“What do you want to call me?” he asks, even though he knows Yeonjun probably can’t answer. And he knows what Yeonjun wants to say anyway - it’s what Beomgyu called himself earlier. Yeonjun wants to use it too, he just needs to be told he can.

“Want to call me hyung, Yeonjun-ah?”

“Hyung,” Yeonjun repeats, in a breath. “Yes, hyung.”

“That’s right, Yeonjun-ah, hyung’s gonna make you feel good, okay?”

“Okay hyung.”

With that, Beomgyu tugs Yeonjun’s pants the rest of the way off, lifts his hoodie over his head, throws them all off to the side with the older’s shoes. He keeps his touch firm but not harsh as he maneuvers Yeonjun gently forward, twisting him away from the mirror until he can push him carefully down to lie on the floor.

Yeonjun gasps as the cold floor hits his bare skin, but then Beomgyu is crawling over him and kissing away the little whines that leave his mouth, soothing the sting by rubbing his warm palms over Yeonjun’s exposed chest.

Beomgyu can’t quite believe it. He’s got his hyung naked and pliant and oh-so-submissive underneath him, soft and obedient. He could do _anything_.

The thought brings a wave of power, unlike anything he’s ever felt before. It leaves him a little dizzy.

They haven’t planned this, haven’t talked about boundaries or negotiated anything that involves Yeonjun submitting, let alone submitting so hard. Beomgyu knows, in the quiet, sensible part at the back of his mind, that he should stop, pull Yeonjun back up and wait until they’ve discussed this to go any further.

But the rest of his brain, the loud parts, the parts that are enjoying this so much, too much, are far easier to listen to. His cock is straining at his sweatpants as he pulls back to stare down at the older, at his hazy eyes, the little furrow to his brow, lips red and swollen, cock just starting to drip down onto his stomach.

His hyung, his dominant hyung is right there, blinking slowly, just staring up and waiting for Beomgyu to do whatever he wants to him. Who knows if he’s going to get this chance again?

It feels like control, total control. It’s a _lot_. And he doesn’t want to give it up, not yet.

He settles between Yeonjun’s legs and lays his hands on the older’s waist, strokes his thumbs over the soft ridges of his abs, feels them flexing, twitching under his touch.

“Look at you, baby,” he says, keeping his voice low. Yeonjun groans, thunks his head gently against the floor. “So pretty.”

Then Beomgyu leans in, rests his lips against Yeonjun’s tummy to speak into his skin, careful not to brush against his hard cock - he wants to keep teasing him, just for a little longer.

“And you’re being so good for me, aren’t you? You’re gonna be good?”

“Yes, hyung,” Yeonjun pants, hands scrabbling on the floor by his sides as the vibrations from Beomgyu’s low voice buzz through him. Beomgyu hasn’t said he can touch yet, so he doesn’t. “I’ll be good.”

And ah. He can see why Yeonjun enjoys this so much. Beomgyu likes submitting, likes feeling floaty and drunk and trusting himself to Yeonjun entirely, but this headspace is just as intoxicating. He smiles, tries not to look too predatory as he lets his lips drag down, across Yeonjun’s stomach until he reaches the older’s flushed cock.

“I know you’ll be good, baby,” he says, then he wraps his lips around the wet tip again, sucking it clean. Yeonjun moans, writhes under him, so needy and maybe a little pathetic, and Beomgyu can’t tease any longer.

There’s so much he could do, so much he wants to do to his hyung. And he can’t be sensible because that ship has long since sailed, but he’s at least going to be safe. He won’t do anything Yeonjun wouldn’t do to him, and even then he’ll keep it light.

He pulls off his dick once more, hushing Yeonjun’s whines by fitting his hand around it again, stroking it almost idly. “Now, you were a little mean to hyung earlier, weren’t you?”

Yeonjun has tears in his eyes as he looks up at Beomgyu, plump lips set in a pout. Beomgyu waits, patiently, until Yeonjun nods, a shaky, shy movement that has Beomgyu struggling to keep his pace even, fighting the urge to speed up, pull an orgasm out of him right now, watch those tears finally spill down his soft cheeks.

Beomgyu takes a deep breath, hums it out. “It’s okay, baby. I forgive you. You’re making it up to me now, aren’t you?”

“Yes, hyung.”

Yeonjun is desperate to move, aching to touch - Beomgyu can see it in the erratic, constant scrunching of his hands, nails scraping against the floor, the way his abs quiver as he holds his hips still.

And Beomgyu isn’t unaffected either - he hasn’t even touched himself yet, but there’s precum soaking into his underwear. He’s overheating, wound tight. He needs more, they both do.

So he can’t be coy anymore, can’t keep up the little game he’s been playing so far. He needs Yeonjun, for real, and he needs him now.

“I’m gonna fill you up,” he says, blunt and shameless, and it comes out more like a moan. “Hyung’s gonna fill you up good, you want that?”

Yeonjun moans right back, mouth lolling open almost obscenely. “Want that, I want that hyung.”

Beomgyu came prepared, thinking he’d be playing with Yeonjun today (but not like this, he never imagined like this), so he only has to reach into his pocket to grab the small packet of lube he brought with him. It should be enough.

Yeonjun nearly sobs as Beomgyu pushes the first finger in, back arching before he can stop himself. Beomgyu shuffles closer, lifts Yeonjun’s leg up to give himself better access. Yeonjun bends easily, turns his head to pant against the floor as Beomgyu swiftly fits another finger in, scissoring gently.

It wasn’t just mindless chatter earlier, Yeonjun wasn’t lying - he _is_ being good, _so_ good. Beomgyu feels warm and proud as he kisses Yeonjun’s knee, finally giving him permission.

“You can touch me, kitten.”

Immediately, Yeonjun’s hands are gripping Beomgyu’s arms, clutching desperately at one spot for a beat before finding another, roaming up and down like he can’t decide where to stop, wants to touch everywhere he can. He tugs at Beomgyu’s wrist to speed up the shallow thrusts of his fingers - Beomgyu resists, just to see the tears welling up in his eyes, the sweat beading on his forehead.

“ _Please_ , hyung,” Yeonjun moans, voice strangled, bubbly like he’s about to cry. It’s one of the best sounds Beomgyu’s ever heard.

“Almost there, baby,” Beomgyu says, and leans forward to kiss him through it, still working his fingers. Yeonjun is a little too uncoordinated to kiss back properly, so he’s mostly panting, moaning into Beomgyu’s mouth as the younger bites and sucks at his swollen lips, but it’s good, so good. A third finger slips in smoothly, Yeonjun opening so easily for him, and Beomgyu can’t wait any longer.

“You ready, kitten?” he asks, petting Yeonjun’s thighs as he slowly pulls his fingers out. Yeonjun gasps a little but doesn’t whine at the loss, doesn’t complain even as Beomgyu leans back, just out of reach, and he’s forced to let go of the younger’s arms. He’s good, patient, watching quietly as Beomgyu pulls down his sweatpants and finally, _finally_ frees his cock.

“Ready, ’m ready, please,” Yeonjun says as Beomgyu picks up the lube again, generously slicking himself up. He turns slightly to drop the empty packet somewhere behind him, out of the way, but something catches his eye as he moves. Another incredible rush of heat floods through him.

“Right there,” he says, tipping his head toward the mirror they’re settled parallel to. He can’t believe he’d forgotten. “Take a look, baby.”

Yeonjun follows the command, rolling his head almost sleepily to the side until he catches sight of his own reflection. A soft noise escapes from somewhere in his throat, something sparkly and a little awe-struck.

Beomgyu looks with him - he looks destroyed, already. Mussed and dazed and irresistible. There’s a beautiful flush over his exposed skin, a slight sheen of sweat. His mouth is slack, bitten red, breath still coming fast and harsh through his parted lips. Laid out on the floor, he looks long and lean and smooth - Beomgyu thinks he looks _perfect_. And he doesn’t know for sure what’s going through the older’s head when he looks at himself, like this, but he has a feeling Yeonjun agrees.

Yeonjun’s eyes flicker when he meets his own gaze, dark and raw, and he raises an arm blindly up toward the younger. Beomgyu ducks in so Yeonjun’s hand brushes against his cheek, nuzzles against his twitching fingers, turns to kiss the inside of his wrist.

“I want you to watch, baby. See how pretty you look as hyung fucks you, got it?”

Yeonjun just hums in reply, dreamy and rich, but that’s more than enough for Beomgyu. He lays Yeonjun’s hand down on the floor and gently positions him, setting his legs up around his waist, hands firm on Yeonjun’s thighs, then he lines up and pushes in.

Yeonjun mewls, shaking with the effort of staying still, holding himself in place until Beomgyu bottoms out, and _oh_. Beomgyu can’t hold back a groan as he feels Yeonjun around him, hot and tight and perfect. It’s a lot, so much, and Beomgyu can’t get enough.

He barely gives Yeonjun time to adjust before he starts up a rhythm, hard steady thrusts in and out that have Yeonjun keening, panting, whining pathetically. Yeonjun is taking him well, so well, and Beomgyu knows he’s probably not going to last long, not after all this. Neither of them are.

As instructed, Yeonjun keeps his gaze on the mirror, transfixed by his own fucked-out expression, tongue poked out between his slack lips, eyelids fluttering every time Beomgyu pushes into him.

But then Beomgyu shifts slightly and hits a spot that has him seeing stars, moaning loud and desperate, and his attention is snapped up to Beomgyu. And the mirror was fantastic but when that expression is directed straight at him instead, there’s no way Beomgyu is going to tell him to look away again.

“You feel so good, baby,” he says, lifting Yeonjun’s hips for a different angle, wanting more pretty noises to spill out of the older’s mouth. “You’re doing so well, so good for hyung.”

Yeonjun grabs at Beomgyu’s shirt with tense, urgent hands, tries to tug him forward - Beomgyu goes willingly, leaning over the older as he continues to thrust into him, trying to keep his pace even but it’s so hard when Yeonjun’s right there, looking like _that_.

Yeonjun pulls him closer like he wants something, but he doesn’t say _what_. There are pretty gasps and whines and moans leaving his mouth, but he’s not talking - he doesn’t say _why_ he wants Beomgyu closer, what he wants the younger to _do_ , and Beomgyu falters for a second. He’s so used to taking orders off the older that he’s expecting them here too, suddenly and inexplicably lost when the older has only given him half a command.

It takes a moment, looking down into Yeonjun’s teary eyes, to remember that _he’s_ the one in control here. He gets to decide.

So he does what he wants and moves down to Yeonjun’s chest, flicking the tip of his tongue over one of Yeonjun’s nipples and listens to Yeonjun _wail_. He’s always been a little sensitive here, but it sounds like it’s really affecting him today - and Beomgyu is never one to waste an opportunity so he gets to work, pulling the bud into his mouth and sucking, licking, biting gently and not so gently, anything to hear more of those pretty noises, anything to try and push Yeonjun up and over the edge.

It’s working. Yeonjun tangles his fingers in Beomgyu’s hair and holds his head in place, trying to both push his chest up and rocks his hips down to meet Beomgyu’s thrusts, torn between the two sensations. He’s sobbing when Beomgyu looks up, fat tears rolling down his face, and the sight just makes Beomgyu work harder, switching to his other nipple and giving it the same intense treatment, fixated on the task, his whole body thrumming with the urge to perform well, to make his hyung feel _good_.

After that, it’s not surprising that Yeonjun comes first. Beomgyu’s been holding back his own orgasm, from an urgent sort of need to feel Yeonjun clenching, fluttering hot around him before he comes himself, but Beomgyu doesn’t want to, can’t wait any longer. He moves away from Yeonjun’s sore nipples and up to his red mouth, sharing breath as he works his fist hard and fast over the older’s cock until he’s coming onto his stomach, crying against Beomgyu’s lips, and Beomgyu can’t get enough. He swallows the sounds, thick and sweet like honey, licks into Yeonjun’s mouth to taste it too, get every drop, every last second of it, the result of Yeonjun’s beautiful submission.

And it’s all so much, too much, exactly what he needed. Yeonjun comes, so tight and so perfect around him, and he swears his vision is blurring as he hurriedly pulls out and finishes himself off over Yeonjun’s stomach, a dazzling relief, adding to the mess already there.

They’re both panting, flushed and sweaty. Beomgyu puts a hand on Yeonjun’s neck, strokes softly as they come down, resists the urge to dip his fingers into the cum slowly cooling on the older’s stomach, sinking into the soft dips of his abs.

He looks to the mirror again and sees them both, fucked out and satisfied. He watches Yeonjun’s eyelids drooping, admires the bliss on his face and feels warm, full with the knowledge that _he_ did that to him. Usually it’s the other way around, Yeonjun carefully breaking him down, pulling him apart like this, but Beomgyu was the driving force here. He was in control, _he did this_. There’s a sense of accomplishment, with those thoughts, that makes the whole thing that much sweeter.

He wants to stay like this a little longer, could probably stay like this forever, but as his senses trickle back in, he remembers they’re still in the practice room, essentially in public. The door’s not even locked, someone could walk in any second. It’s unlikely, given the late hour, but they still need to clean up, get presentable, just in case.

Yeonjun doesn’t want to let him go - Beomgyu never does either, when he’s in the same position. He needs constant skin contact until he’s calmed down, needs to know Yeonjun is right there with him as he comes back to normal. And it looks like Yeonjun might be feeling the same way right now, but Beomgyu has to be responsible. He needs to protect his hyung as best he can, even if it might hurt a little first. They need to clean up.

So he untangles himself from Yeonjun, hushes his whines with a chaste kiss, strokes his hair. And he’s going to be gone for ten, fifteen seconds, maximum, but it seems like such a long time to be away right now. His phone is within grabbing distance so he sets a song playing and places it next to Yeonjun’s head, then doesn’t stop talking to him as he moves away, keeping up a stream of praise, constant coos and little reassuring words so the older is still aware of his presence as he moves across the room to grab the box of tissues, a bottle of water, and the bundle of Yeonjun’s discarded clothes in the middle of the floor.

Then he’s back with Yeonjun, kissing him softly because he’s crying again, and he wipes up the mess as best he can with just the dry tissues and helps Yeonjun pull his clothes back on. Then he settles down against the mirror, sits Yeonjun up between his legs and holds him close, hums along to the song still playing on the phone, cuddles him until the older is ready to move again. He doesn’t know exactly what to do, what Yeonjun needs him to do, but this is what Yeonjun does for him, when he’s coming down, trying to come up again. He hopes it’s working.

Eventually, Yeonjun croaks out, “What the fuck.”

Beomgyu kisses his hair. “How are you feeling?”

“What the fuck was that?”

And he’s crying again, a new wave of tears falling fast as he turns his face into Beomgyu’s chest, clutching at the younger’s arms around him. Beomgyu feels a prickle of panic, a flash of worry that something’s actually wrong, but he pushes it away, telling himself Yeonjun’s not upset, not really - just overwhelmed. It’s a lot, a rush of chemicals and emotions that he’s probably not used to, and he just needs some time to sort himself out. Beomgyu holds him tighter, rubs at his arm, his back, down to his waist, and gives Yeonjun all the time he needs.

“Yeonjunie-hyung, you did so well,” he says, soft but assured, trying to copy how Yeonjun always sounds for him. “You were so good for me, hyung, I’m so proud of you.”

Yeonjun whimpers, but the praise seems to help. He moves his face out of Beomgyu’s chest, resting his head on the younger’s shoulder instead. There are still tears running down his cheeks, but he’s calmer, now.

Beomgyu kisses his forehead. “Did it feel good?”

It’s a natural question, but Beomgyu’s feeling a little vulnerable as he asks. It’s what Yeonjun asks him, after they play, and he’s once more acutely aware of how their positions have changed. He still doesn’t know if he did it right, if he was a good dom for the older. He’s always seeking Yeonjun’s approval, always wanting to impress his hyung, even if he won’t always admit it - but he especially needs it right now, more than ever.

And Yeonjun hesitates before answering, a silence that makes Beomgyu’s heart stutter, but then he nods, cheek smushing against Beomgyu’s shoulder. His voice is still wet and shaky, but his answer is honest.

“Yes. It was good.”

And Beomgyu knows there’s something else he needs to say to his hyung, sooner rather than later, but he keeps biting back the words, embarrassed or ashamed or something that sounds equally as guilty. He’s struggling to speak, close to drowning, until he feels Yeonjun’s fingers digging into his arm, desperate for comfort, and he reminds himself that this is Yeonjun and Yeonjun _loves_ him. He can tell him anything, and it’s suddenly much easier to get the words out.

“Sorry I didn’t ask,” he says, throat tight. “About _this_ , and _you_.”

Yeonjun sniffles, presses his lips to Beomgyu’s neck before he lifts his head, sending the younger a little smile that has all the guilt disappearing in a second.

“S’okay. We need to talk later, though.”

“I know,” Beomgyu says, running his fingers through Yeonjun’s hair, feeling light and airy again. He cracks open the water bottle, holds it to Yeonjun’s lips so he can take little sips, praising him softly and loving the red tint it brings to Yeonjun’s ears. It’s okay, after all. They’re going to be alright.

Beomgyu looks up at the clock, sees time ticking on. It was already pretty late, when they started all this, but now they’re into the small hours of the morning.

“We should get back to the dorm,” Beomgyu says. Yeonjun hums in agreement, but makes no effort to move. Beomgyu nudges him, pokes at his side, but Yeonjun barely reacts.

“Think you can get up?”

Yeonjun tenses, shifts away slightly like he’s giving it a go, trying to get his muscles to cooperate, but quickly gives up, slumping back against Beomgyu.

“Not yet,” he says, snuggling close again, nose bumping his neck, breath tickling his skin, and Beomgyu doesn’t mind one bit.

“Okay. We can stay here.”

Yeonjun yawns, clearly drained and drifting off, and they really should make an effort to get up, get to a real bed and sleep properly. Beomgyu is still sitting up, propped against the mirror, and the floor isn’t too comfortable, but Yeonjun’s solid weight against him definitely is. He’s warm and loose-limbed and clinging so sweetly, and Beomgyu is completely, utterly whipped. He’ll stay here as long as his hyung needs.

“Thank you, Beomgyu,” Yeonjun says, sleepy and soft and perfect. Beomgyu smiles, lays his head down on top of Yeonjun’s and closes his eyes.

“Any time, hyung.”

**Author's Note:**

> they apparently have cctv in the practice rooms but that won’t stop me, nothing will
> 
> [cc!](https://curiouscat.me/heondreds) ⋆｡ﾟ.*･☆━⊂(◕-◕´∩) questions, comments, it’s always open


End file.
